The sun rose quietly over the burned remains of Esgaroth. Talessa and her friends were helping the townsfolk set up a temporary shelter along the lakeshore. Tauriel tended to the wounded, moving with calm efficiency. Earlier, she had argued with Legolas, though Talessa hadn't heard what it was about. Whatever the issue, the male elf left in a hurry, while Tauriel assured them she would stay until everyone was safe and cared for.
Boats were constantly being rowed in and out of the smoldering town, men salvaging whatever they could. Word spread quickly that the mayor had perished—Smaug had fallen directly onto his boat, sinking it along with his guards and the treasures he had tried to escape with. The townsfolk, emboldened by his cowardice and their newfound hope, proclaimed Bard their new leader. He had been popular among the poorer citizens before, but now he was a hero to everyone.
Talessa cast a wistful gaze toward the looming mountain. No word had come from the dwarves who had ventured there, and the uncertainty gnawed at everyone, especially Kíli and Fíli. Both were restless, eager to reunite with their uncle, but they reluctantly agreed to stay until the temporary settlement of tents and wooden shelters was complete.
Kíli, recovering quickly from his wound, now trailed after Tauriel during her rounds among the injured. They made a curious pair—a beautiful, stern-faced elf, towering more than a head above the rugged, cheerful dwarf who followed her with an adoring grin.
Meanwhile, Talessa and Eline sat on a rock, handing out food portions prepared by a group of older women. Despite the devastation, there was enough food to stave off starvation. Many livestock had been saved during the evacuation, with villagers carrying their pigs and chickens to safety, and the lake continued to provide plenty of fish. Still, the approaching winter would be harsh. Talessa hoped Thorin would send enough gold and resources to aid in rebuilding the town.
Eline had been quiet since the attack, staying close to Talessa but speaking little. Talessa could feel the weight of her friend's unspoken frustration.
"I'm sorry, Eline," she said softly. She guessed the source of her friend's silence: anger at not being warned about the vision and the prophecy. "I should have told you. I just... I still wasn't sure if what I saw was real or just my imagination."
Eline's voice was flat, tinged with exhaustion. "We all could have died. Ever since we joined the dwarves, we've never truly been safe. I'm just... worried about what comes next. What is the plan, anyway?"
Talessa hesitated. "I think... I think I'm meant to stay," she admitted cautiously. "My fate seems tied to Thorin and—"
"Is that what you want, though?" Eline interrupted sharply, her eyes piercing. "Because I'm not even sure where you stand with him right now. Though," she added with a faint smile, "I did hear you screaming his name last night. Most of us did."
Talessa's face turned scarlet beneath her veil, and for a moment, she laughed along with Eline, the tension between them easing.
"I do want to stay with him," she said, more serious now. "But what about you and Fíli? I thought you might want to stay as well." Her voice wavered with uncertainty. Her visions had never revealed whether Eline's path would align with hers or diverge. The thought of losing her dearest friend weighed heavily on her heart, but she could never force Eline to stay, no matter how much she wished it.
Eline didn't respond right away, her gaze drifting to the distance. Talessa followed her line of sight and saw Fíli, shirt sleeves rolled up, carrying a heavy plank of wood. His muscled torso was visible through the thin fabric, and a soft smile touched Eline's lips.
"Do you think my family—and Bertra—would be willing to move here if we decided to stay?" Eline asked quietly, resting her head on Talessa's shoulder, her eyes still on the blonde dwarf.
Talessa allowed herself a flicker of hope. With the dwarves reclaiming Erebor, she could imagine Dale rising again, trade flourishing, and both men and dwarves repopulating the land.
"Maybe," Talessa murmured, her voice thoughtful. "It could happen. This place might truly become home."
They set out for the mountain just after midday. Halfway there, they met Gloin, who had been sent to find them. The reunion was cheerful, and before long, they reached Erebor. Gloin let them in through one of the hidden doors, which could only be opened from the inside. As they stepped into the mountain, he guided them toward what he called the "dining chamber," a grand hall large enough to host at least 500 dwarves.
Fíli and Kíli, born years after Smaug's attack, had never seen their ancestors' glorious kingdom. Their awestruck expressions mirrored those of Eline and Talessa as they took in the magnificence of the architecture—the intricately carved passages and grand chambers they passed through left them all speechless.
Once reunited, the dwarves eagerly recounted their tale of driving out the dragon. They had sent Bilbo in first, but when Smaug awoke and the hobbit didn't reappear, Thorin had led the charge into the mountain. Thorin... who was conspicuously absent now.
Talessa couldn't make sense of it. Surely, if he was injured, someone would have informed them. Why wouldn't he join them, even for a short while? If not for her, at least for his nephews. The question nagged at her, and though she tried to push it aside, the ache of his absence cut deep. She felt Eline's gaze flicker toward her, sensing her turmoil.
Unable to hold back, Talessa stepped aside to where Balin and Bilbo stood, slightly removed from the others.
"Where is he?" she asked softly, keeping her voice as neutral as she could manage.
Balin and Bilbo exchanged uneasy glances before leading her a few steps farther away.
"He's in the throne room," Balin said finally, his voice heavy.
Talessa tilted her head, confused by his tone.
"I'm afraid he's... not himself," Bilbo added, searching for the right words. "It's the treasure. It seems like it got a hold on him."
"We hoped you might be able to talk to him," Balin said, his voice tinged with quiet hope.
Talessa nodded slowly, torn between her desire to see Thorin and the growing dread of what she might find.
Balin led her through a labyrinth of corridors and staircases until they reached a chamber even larger than the dining hall. A wide stone bridge stretched toward a central dais with a throne forged of gold and iron. Many feets below the bridge lay a vast pit filled with glittering mounds of treasure—gold, jewels, and artifacts, all shimmering faintly in the dim light.
"I'll wait outside," Balin said gently before retreating through a side door.
Talessa stepped onto the bridge, her footsteps hesitant, the vast emptiness of the chamber making her feel small. As she neared the dais, she could make out Thorin's figure seated on the throne. He looked down at her with an expression she couldn't read. When she was close enough, he stood and extended his arms.
"Thank Durin you are finally here!" he said, pulling her into a tight embrace. She caught the scent of sweat, leather, and smoke on him, his clothes still stained from the battle with the dragon.
Talessa leaned into his warmth, momentarily relieved, until his next words froze her in place.
"I have no one I can trust. They're all after my gold."
She stiffened in his arms, pulling back to search his face. "What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.
"The dwarves," he said, gripping her shoulders tightly. "They're after the treasure—and the Arkenstone. If they get their hands on it, they'll take our throne. We cannot trust anyone."
"Our throne?" Talessa echoed, startled.
Thorin's expression shifted, almost condescending. "Of course, it is our throne. By Durin's beard, woman, you are my wife."
Talessa stared at him, stunned. She had no memory of any such claim, save perhaps in her dreams. Seeing her confusion, Thorin took her hand, his voice softening slightly but carrying a patronizing undertone.
"You became my wife the night you gave yourself to me," he explained. "It is our tradition. Every dwarf here knows it. You are their queen now, just as I am their king. But if we are not careful, someone will take it from us."
Her knees wobbled, and Thorin guided her to his throne, pulling her into his lap. She sat numbly, her thoughts reeling. Her gaze fell on a nearby table where the Arkenstone lay, gleaming with an otherworldly light, its colors shifting like sunlight refracted through crystal. She stared at it, her mind spinning, trying to make sense of Thorin's words, his newfound paranoia, and the treasure's intoxicating pull.
Nídhiel and Bertra, accompanied by the guards Elrond had sent with them, arrived at a camp near the Long Lake. They had been aiming for Esgaroth, which was supposed to rest upon the lake itself, but all they could see were charred wooden skeletons and ash carried on the wind across the desolate landscape. These must be the people who used to live there, Nídhiel thought, a pang of sorrow tightening her chest as she wondered what tragedy had befallen them.
The people in the camp paused their work as the group rode in, their wary eyes fixed on the unfamiliar figures. Despite their stares, Nídhiel felt a wave of relief—they were finally so close to Erebor. The journey, though long, had been far less arduous than she had anticipated. Bertra traveled in a sturdy little carriage pulled by two ponies, and Nídhiel often joined her, giving her horse a chance to rest. The old woman, sharp-witted yet kind, had taught Nídhiel much about the customs of Men. She found their lives so different, yet endlessly fascinating.
"What happened here?" Bertra asked, leaning out of the carriage window, her sharp eyes scanning the ruins.
A group of dirty but bright-eyed children ran up to her, their patched clothing unable to mask their youthful spirit. Bertra disappeared briefly into the carriage, returning with a handful of cinnamon candies they had purchased from a traveling merchant. The children grabbed at the treats eagerly, giggling as they prepared to run off—until a tall, dark-haired man stepped in.
"And what do we say when someone shows us kindness?" he asked, his tone firm but not unkind, his eyebrows raised.
The children exchanged sheepish looks before murmuring their thanks to Bertra and scurrying off, their laughter trailing behind them.
The caravan came to a stop, and Nídhiel dismounted from her horse, moving to help Bertra out of the cart. The tall man stood watching them carefully, his posture calm but authoritative. Nídhiel guessed he must be someone of importance among the settlers.
"My name is Nídhiel, and this is Bertra," she said with a polite inclination of her head. "Are you the mayor of this town?"
"You might call it that," he replied, his expression unreadable. "What brings you here? We've had our share of disruptive visitors lately, so you'll understand the people's caution."
"We mean no harm," Bertra said quickly, her warm smile placating. "We're just passing through, though we hoped you might be able to help us."
"We're looking for our friends," Nídhiel added. "Talessa and Eline—"
"The lady with the veil and her red-haired companion," the man interjected, his tone careful. Nídhiel nodded eagerly, though something in his manner made her pause.
"May I offer you supper?" he said after a moment. "Your friends are safe in Erebor, but you won't reach it before nightfall. You may as well rest here."
Nídhiel and Bertra exchanged a glance before agreeing. Their guards and horses needed rest, and they could use the respite as well.
The man introduced himself as Bard. Over supper, Nídhiel learned he had two daughters, Sigrid and Tilda, and a young son named Bain. Their temporary home was modest, but Sigrid's stew was delicious and warming after the chill of the road.
As they ate, Bard shared the grim tale of what had happened to Laketown. When the dwarves disturbed Smaug, the dragon unleashed his fury, reducing Esgaroth to ashes. Later, Bain revealed that it had been Bard himself who slew the beast and led the survivors to safety, saving countless lives.
Nídhiel admired Bard's quiet heroism. A man of his height and striking features, who had achieved such feats, surely deserved more pride than he allowed himself to show.
Bertra, however, wept openly at the tale, her sorrow quickly turning to anger when Bard explained how the dwarves had refused to share their treasure or offer aid to the survivors.
"My girls would never allow such cruelty!" she cried, her fists trembling. "I worry they might be captives in that mountain."
"Your friends were kind and helpful to us," Bard reassured her, flustered by the old woman's outburst. "But as far as I know, they went to the mountain of their own accord. Unfortunately, I doubt they have much influence over what treasure leaves it."
"I expected better of those dwarves," Nídhiel said quietly, sadness lacing her voice. "I'm sorry for all you've endured. I'll send word to my lord Elrond and ask if he can send some aid."
The two women decided to leave their guards behind, asking them to assist in the rebuilding of Esgaroth instead. They didn't know what to expect at Erebor, but it felt wiser to approach unarmed and appear vulnerable. Still, Nídhiel discreetly strapped a long, slender elven blade beneath her green layered skirt, unwilling to be completely defenseless.
Someone must have spotted and recognized them from an overlook, for when they reached the gate, it opened slightly. An excited Eline ran out to greet them.
"How did you find us?" she cried, her voice breathless with emotion.
"Calm down, my child. You'll knock me over," Bertra scolded, though her deep laugh was genuine and warm.
"How is my family? Did you see them?" Eline asked, her voice softening with a mixture of hope and longing.
"Yes, my child, I saw them just before returning to Rivendell. They are all well, though they miss you terribly."
"I miss them too," Eline said wistfully, her mind wandering back to her earlier conversation with Tessie about whether she would stay in Erebor.
Just that morning, she had walked with Fíli and Dori, the older dwarf pointing out the ledges and terraces on the mountainside that had once been used as gardens. They had reached a particularly beautiful slope with a stunning view of the Long Lake when Dori, with a knowing smile, excused himself and disappeared, leaving her alone with the young prince.
Eline had kissed Fíli once before, in Mirkwood, when no one was looking, but this time had been different. Though he said nothing, the way he held her close felt like a question, a silent proposal. She wanted so desperately to say yes, yet fear gripped her heart. Thorin's erratic behavior horrified her, and a small part of her couldn't help but wonder if she had misjudged all dwarves, not just him.
Bertra's next words broke her reverie, filling her with despair. "Quinmaer Manor is gone, burned to the ground," the old woman said, her voice heavy with sorrow.
Eline wept at the news. Tessie had lost the only home she had ever known. The thought coated Eline's heart in despair. She had been planning to ask Talessa to leave Erebor—leave Thorin and run while they still could. Bilbo, the clever little hobbit, had suggested as much. It would have shattered her heart to leave Fíli and the others she had come to care for, but for Tessie, she would have done it. Now, with their home reduced to ashes, she wondered, Where would we even go?
"She doesn't know you're here yet," Eline said after taking a deep breath to collect herself. "Thorin's been... keeping her busy, and no one wanted to risk bothering him. She's... well, she's being kept on a bit of a tight leash."
Nídhiel and Bertra exchanged indignant glances.
"We've heard all about him," Bertra spat. "How stingy and miserly he is with his precious hoard. I warned you, girl. I told you to be careful with these folk."
Eline glanced uneasily at Bombur and Balin, who stood silently nearby in the hall, their expressions tinged with sadness.
"Not all of them are like that," she said quietly, coming to their defense. "Thorin wasn't always like this either. He's changed—something has poisoned his mind. But you're right, Bert. This isn't right."
She straightened her posture and squared her shoulders. "We'll need to talk to Tessie."